Outfitted in only a tight pair of joggers that show off just enough, George sits in the grand armchair situated in the corner of the library. He grips his phone in his left hand and repeatedly checks the time.
9:53 pm.
At the top of the hour, both had agreed the chase was on. George’s goal was to outrun Dream as long as possible, with mental stakes rising by the minute. Dream would start in the guest bedroom across the manor with the intention of finding George and absolutely fucking ruining him.
George’s eyes finally adapt to the dim light that barely illuminates the room. The manor walls are lined with electric candles that lit the long and dark hallways, as the main light source was switched off. He thought it was stupid and a waste of power, but perhaps he was too quick to judge, as the warm glow appears to be just enough to set the desired atmosphere of suspense, danger, and arousing adrenaline.
He’s pulled out of his trance as his text tone alerts and brings a hollow echo through the vacant library. Switching the settings to silent, he reads Dream’s text: Color?
The old grandfather clock strikes 10, releasing a deep brass ringing that damn near gives George a heart attack. He quickly types a response back: Green, daddy. Very, very green.
Dream’s response doesn’t help his growing erection, but he isn’t one to complain: Happy to hear that, darling. See you soon ;)
It doesn’t take long for it to dawn on him that he really has no idea what he’s doing. Dream surely knows this place like the back of his hand and a home as old as this surely has its fair share of secrets. Pocketing his phone, George runs out of the library and sneaks into the study next door. The air is dry and dusty, but it's a slightly less obvious hiding spot so it’ll have to do.
George is bored. He’s bored and he can’t kill. Typically in this sort of situation, he’d devise a master plan to trick Dream for hours, but the reward is simply too tempting to wait a few hours for. Sure, he could jerk off right then and there, yet something holds him back.
Good boys get rewards. Dream’s voice echoes in his head, and words of praise dance around his mind like a tornado about to touch the ground. The creaking of the old wood snaps him out of the trance and beckons him into the rest of the house. There’s no way Dream could have possibly made his way down yet, but Dream had his ways and he always got exactly what he wanted.
The game was rigged in Dream’s favor and by no means could it be argued any other way. It was simply a waiting game that ripped the competitive side and touch-starved masochist side of him apart. The side of him that could kill another man with no mercy for simply looking at his lover and the side who wants nothing more than possessive scars cut across his lithe skin have reached an agreement; that agreement was Dream.
Unable to hold back his uncontrollable lust, George pulls out his phone and props it up on a nearby chair. The dusty chair sits in front of an old desk which glows dully from the quiet light of the candles. George sets a timer and runs to the other side of the desk.
He sits on the edge of the wood facing the wall, spreading his legs and arching his back. Above his head, he crosses his arms and leans into his shoulder. The camera captures the lascivious outline of his body, just as intended. He zooms in and examines the quality of the photo, deeming it perfect before sending it off to Dream.
And he waits.
There are a few moments of silence and the excited beating of George’s heart before it dawns on him that he’s practically given his exact location away. Dream is intelligent and prides himself on his residence, so the lack of bright luminescence would hardly be a deterrent. The taller knows every corner and crevice of the manor and George can’t complain.
No matter how busy Dream gets he always makes time to whisk George away into hidden spots of the old house for intimate moments he holds near and dear to his heart. Whether it be a chaste kiss or multiple orgasms Dream doesn’t share his beloved with anyone, not even the men he trusts with his life on a daily basis.
The air rushing through his hair is refreshing as George all but runs down the corridors. Streaks of light from the candles flash the edges of his vision until he meets a fork in the road; one with a delicate table at the end of it that he definitely didn’t almost run into. Left leads to the open room beyond the foyer with wooden balconies and the grand staircase, while the right leads to another hallway of makeshift offices and storage rooms until an inevitable dead end.
Damned if he chooses, damned if he stays.
Going left would open up many other wings of the mansion, but if Dream happened to catch a glimpse of him he’d be nearing the endgame. George wouldn’t complain, but the game has truly just begun. Where’s the fun in giving up before a lap around the board?
On the other hand, when Dream makes his way towards the dead-end hallway hiding becomes a temporary stall. On the off chance he’s able to run, he knows Dream can easily catch up. George is confident in his stamina and endurance, but Dream is on a whole other level and if that isn’t the hottest thing can imagine, he doesn’t know what is.
George makes an impulse decision and runs to the right. The storage room seems like the obvious choice with piles upon piles of boxes so he chooses one of the offices instead. Running through the door, he quickly turns around in an attempt to stop the heavy door from slamming, but he’s too late. A cracked open window causes the door to slam and there’s a brief moment of silence before George hears a small noise coming from upstairs.
Fuck.
Paralyzed by adrenaline, George finally pulls out his phone and sees a text from Dream received a few minutes ago: Such a tease, aren’t you darling? I’m not complaining but you sure will be when I milk you dry ;)
George can’t help but giggle, newfound courage washing over him: Sure would be a shame if I did it myself first :(
Even when Dream is actively chasing him down with the promise of a reward George can’t keep his attitude at bay. His hard-on grows at the thought of another risqué text from Dream. He wouldn’t dare touch himself, but Dream doesn’t need to know that. Phone in hand, he leans over an office table and arches his back, giving the front-facing camera a perfect view of his back and the silhouette of his ass. The smooth glass table is cool against his cheek, as he doesn’t bother to stand back up before sending the text off.
Once again giving his location away, George rushes back into the hall and makes his way to the main room that branches off into every other wing of the manor. He’s so caught up with making a plan that he doesn’t notice the warm glow coming from the opening arch to the center of the mansion.
George freezes under the tall arch, his face heating up in the glowy warmth of the fireplace. Dream sits facing the fireplace, the illuminated outline of his blond hair sticks up over the back of the leather armchair.
“Hello, darling.” Dream greets. It’s casual, too casual for George to drop his guard which typically melts away at the mere sound of Dream’s voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite. Not yet.”
“And you expect me to believe that? In case you’ve forgotten, this little game of ‘Hide and Sex’ was your idea.” George tiptoes around the fact that Dream has the upper hand and if there’s one thing he’s certain of it’s he’s but a pawn in the blonde’s game of chess.
“I won’t deny that, but it seems you’ve forgotten what we’re working towards. I promised you a reward if you could be an obedient little toy. Hell, I even gave you the chase you seem to love when all you need is right here, angel.”
“What happened to hunting me down? You claim you’re capable of chasing your obedient little toy, but here you are sitting on your ass.” George retorts, walking around the armchair to face Dream while still keeping a distance. The way the taller man is sprawled out so nonchalantly with crossed legs is almost patronizing. Almost.
“You see, I play a fair game, baby. I agreed to entertain your little fantasy and all I asked in return was an effort to drop the bratting. Instead, you taunt me with risqué photos and act surprised when I don’t give in to your every beck and call.” Dream uncrosses his legs and leans towards George, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’ll be kind enough to give you a choice again. You can keep this up and be locked in chastity until Sapnap believes you’re dead and buried, or you can be a good boy and apologize before we continue and forget this little hiccup ever happened. Perhaps if you beg hard enough and bat those pretty eyelashes of yours I’ll even give you a head start.”
As soon as Dream says those two words it’s like a switch flips in George’s mind. He’s a serial killer; he stabs people in cold blood and smiles at the taste of the metallic aftermath. There’s no reason for the warm and fluttery feeling in his stomach at the mention of being good. Dream fell in love with the bratty masochist he prides himself as.
Dream.
As possessive as his beloved mafia boss can be, George can’t deny he adores the feeling. He melts in Dream’s arms behind closed doors and basks in the soft moments of protective lust, despite presenting himself as an independent criminal who’s undeniably at the top of his game. No one needs to know about his desire to be a good boy for Dream. Perhaps he could give it a try, given this all stays behind closed doors.
“Yellow.” George whispers, backing up a few steps and sliding back against the wall until he’s sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest, hiding his growing hard-on.
“Oh, baby, did I go too far? Talk to me, honey.” Dream scrambles over to George, kneeling in front of him.
“No, nothing like that! It’s just… it’s stupid, really.” George panics, dropping his head onto his knees. A mix of guilt and shame washes over him. “I’m a fucking serial killer, Dream. I can’t just let my guard down so easily. I have an image to maintain, and I trust you completely but it’s a mental thing? I guess?”
“A mental thing?”
“You do realize this is a temporary affair, right? I can’t, and won’t, just drop everything to become your personal sex slave. Sapnap won’t keep his mouth shut. I’m not gonna be taken seriously after this. We’re fucked either way-“
“George, look at me.” Dream fully sits down, crossing his legs. “If you’re worried about your reputation, we can work around that.”
“Real promising.” George lets out a dry laugh, rolling his eyes. He crosses his arms atop his knees and rests his chin down. The heat of the flame ghosts across his cheeks.
“I have power, sweetheart. I could have Sapnap on his knees cleaning my shoes with his tongue if I so desired. You of all people would know.” Dream winks. “That is, if I play my cards right.”
“Deal me in then, I suppose.”
“Oh no, you just need to sit back and listen. Be a good boy for daddy, yeah?”
There it is again. As if on cue the warm fuzzy feeling washes over him like a tidal wave infused by the rays of the sun. God, he’s so fucked.
“Perhaps I could try.” George turns around and lies down with his head in Dream’s lap. “Oh, and green. Very green, daddy.”
“That so?”
George nods for a few seconds before Dream pulls him upwards by his hair. It’s hard for him not to release a moan at the stinging pain of his scalp. When he regains his balance he straightens his spine and relaxes into a kneeling position looking up towards Dream, only to find that the taller one has returned to his chair. His legs are crossed and he leans on the sidearm as he scrolls at his phone.
“Daddy?” George questions, but he’s met with a split-second glance before Dream returns to mindless scrolling. He’s confused for a moment but eventually catches onto Dream’s little game.
“I’m sorry for teasing you, daddy. I’ll be good now, wanna be so good for you.” He lunges slightly forward for dramatic effect and braces himself on the palms of his hands.
Dream finally turns and smirks, looking smug as ever finally having received exactly what he wants. “Go on.”
George furrows his brow. “Go on?” He swears holding eye contact wasn’t this challenging a few minutes ago. “Believe it or not, I can’t just pull a thesaurus out of my ass on command to look up synonyms for apologize.” He bats his eyelashes to further appease Dream.
He isn’t sure what to expect, but Dream breaking out into laughter certainly isn’t it. “Five minute head start, sound good?” George scrambles up, earning a slap on the ass as he makes his way past Dream.
“Sounds lovely, daddy.”
***
The halls are silent as George passes door after door. Typically, the halls of the old manor are illuminated with bright sunlight from the tall windows, but the melancholy night only leaves darkness other than the dim candles.
Checking his phone, George notes the five minute mark is gone and passed, which makes the deafening air feel stranger. He’s memorized Dream’s footfalls from sleepless nights waiting for his lover to return home from endless strings of dangerous cases.
Nothing.
Dream’s up to something, he has to be. Then again, when isn’t he? George wonders what’s going on behind the shadows and can’t decide if he wants to push off the inevitable or run straight into Dream’s arms.
A grandfather clock strikes in the distance, pulling George out of his thoughts. He approaches the heavy door to Dream’s room. Their room technically, but many nights of falling asleep alone leave George with an empty feeling.
He isn’t ungrateful, as Dream always returns in the early hours of morning, but he despises how he either has to fall asleep alone, not knowing whether Dream’s safe or a bloody corpse on the pavement, or has to sneak around behind the other’s back.
Sneaking around sounds malicious; George prefers the term lying by omission, which isn’t technically lying, probably. He should probably come clean, especially after tonight’s events, but if the conversation’s waited this long surely pushing it off further would do no harm.
George cringes as the door creaks behind him, but calms instantly as the faint smell of Dream’s cologne floods his senses. He sits down on their bed, running his fingers across the plush duvet and tries to come up with a plan, but his thoughts are beyond jumbled.
He pads across the floor to the adjoined bathroom where a sole candle appears to be flickering. His side of the double sink is filled with products, but he opts for only cold water to splash over his face. As he reaches to grab the towel, his elbow almost knocks the candle onto the floor.
He pushes it back to the center of the shelf and is met with a flash of heat rushing across his fingertips. It’s not electric, it’s a burning lit candle. Looking back to the mirror in surprise and confusion, he’s faced with his slightly disheveled reflection in front of the illuminated outline of Dream.
“Y’know darling, I’d tell you not to play with fire,” A strong arm reaches across George’s arm and torso, firmly grabbing his other bicep and pulling him flush to Dream’s bare chest, “but I think we’re both aware you’d love to get burned.”
Dream leans over his shoulder, blowing out the candle. He tightens his grip on George’s shoulder, hard enough to leave bruises.
“Ah, but daddy, you wouldn’t. I’ve been trying to bring out your inner sadist, but I don’t think you have it in you. It’s a shame, really.” George thrashes in the taller’s grasp. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to break away from Dream and secretly hopes his fight will only cause short nails to dig harder into his limbs.
“Angel, there’s a difference between being forced to watch my beloved succumb to the brash dangers out there, and choosing to cover every goddamned inch of your body in pretty marks to show who you belong to.” George leans his head back in pleasure as Dream’s free hand ghosts over his chest and snakes its way up to grab his neck.
“I don’t see anyone stopping you.” Dream’s grip tightens, thumb and middle finger gently squeezing the sides of his neck in all the right places. “I’m certainly not.”
“No?” George stumbles away from Dream as he’s let free, all but a firm grip on his wrist. “Have it your way then, those joggers aren’t doing a damn thing to hide your enjoyment, and who am I to allow for such bratty behavior?”
“You prick.”
“None of that, sweetheart.” Dream holds his grip steady and firm on George’s wrist, despite casually checking his phone with a patronizing click of the tongue. “What’s not adding up in that lovely little brain of yours? Really, Georgie, I’ve made it crystal clear by now. You crave the scarlet release of pain and I’m more than happy to indulge if you would just behave.”
“Y’know daddy, I could say the same for you.” He watches as Dream cocks his head in confusion. “I’ve always loved the chase, the adrenaline , yet you seem so shocked when I put up a fight. I promised I’d be on my best behavior this weekend, but I think I’ll make my last few moments of freedom worth it.”
And with that, George twists his arm and pulls his wrist close to his chest, the phantom feeling of pressure reminds him of just how absolutely fucked he is. He loves it. He doesn’t glance behind him as he bolts out of the room and into the halls, hopefully leading Dream to the series of balconies that skirt around the grand hall.
He makes it to the stairs before looking around, only to find nothing but the swaying chandelier overseeing the open space. His heartbeat pulses in his ears as the reality of his decision sinks in. Dream could be anywhere.
The shadows of the balcony rails flicker along the walls, making any movement hard to track. It reminds him of one of their first real dates; a romantic candlelit dinner. Sure, the candlelit aura was only because Dream had blown up a power line less than an hour prior, but it was a romantic evening nonetheless. That night had been one of the few times Dream and George could fully let their guards down. If only it could always be like that .
George continues to scan the loop as he makes his way around, ever so cautious of the fact he’s actively being hunted. Considering so, he finds it out of character to be so bored. As if on cue, his phone buzzes.
Dream’s contact appears on his lock screen with a short message reading: Left you a little present, or should I say bribe, in our room. Meet me in my office after?
If George were less desperate, he’d follow his brain rather than his dick, but a mix of intrigue and pure horniness takes over. There’s no way in hell it isn’t a trap of some sort, yet he’s willing to risk the fall if there’s a chance the ploy is Dream’s warm hold.
The bedroom door is shut. Creaky hinges will give his location away in a heartbeat and he’s not sure if that’s a blessing or a curse.
Before he makes it but two steps into the room a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist and carry him over to the bed. His hair falls into his eyes as he’s roughly thrown onto his back in the center of the bed.
“So glad you’ve decided to join me, pet.” Dream climbs on the bed, straddling George as the smaller tries to shove him off. He easily grabs George’s wrists as he tries to wrestle him off. While he has the power to slam his beloved back onto the bed, he instead opts to carefully drag fragile hands above George’s head as he leans forward pressing his torso down to force them both laying down chest to chest. “What made you change your mind?”
Fucking finally he’s given a sliver of what he wants, and it’s beautiful. The pressure of Dream’s weight holding him down has nothing on the blissful euphoria that leaves his head in the clouds. He leans his head back in pleasure, despite his intuition screaming at him for dropping his guard. His heart instantly overrules any coherent thought that dares swirl around his head and he couldn’t be happier, at least for tonight.
“We haven’t gone over many specific rules yet, but there’s no time like the present.” Dream whispers, and hot air rushes past George’s ear even with the threateningly slow words. “When I ask you a question, I expect a response. Got it, angel?”
“Y-yeah. Please just keep going, daddy.” George whines out through the static of his mind.
“It’s really quite adorable how you think you have any power or control to call the shots here, because guess what, Georgie? You don’t.” Dream bites down hard on the lobe of George’s ear. When George’s reflexes kick in and he tries to turn his head away, Dream drops an elbow down to the bed, effectively boxing him in.
“Fuck, green. Just please, daddy?” George holds back a moan, quickly silenced by Dream biting down harder.
“I’ll repeat myself one more time because it seems my little pet doesn’t remember the simple question he was asked. If this is how you act now I can’t wait to see you fucked out on my bed, nothing but a puddle of pure submission.”
George falls silent and stops thrashing around, looking up to meet Dream’s eyes with the tempting promise of finally getting laid.
“Now, what made you change your mind? A brat like you doesn’t just give in so easily, so what happened?”
“Was desperate.” George closes his eyes to escape the strange new indulgent feeling, but Dream’s dominant presence burns through his eyelids. “Needed you, daddy. Desperately needed you so bad.”
“Ah, now there’s my good boy. Such a shame we’re the only ones here, I’d love to have the whole world hear your screams of who you belong to.” Still keeping a firm grip on George’s wrists, Dream drags his mouth down to one of the other’s nipples. Remembering how much he seemed to enjoy his breath, Dream is sure to replicate the warmth as he trails down. “One more time, who do you belong to?”
“You.”
“I’m sorry, darling, I don’t think that’s my name, is it?” Dream bites down hard on George’s now sensitive nipple, causing him to yelp out in surprise and writh in masochistic pleasure.
“Daddy.” He finally whimpers and Dream swears he would have come in his pants at that exact moment if this were one of their first dates, but that was before he knew the full extent of his beloved’s pain-seeking tendencies.
“I think the whole world deserves to know, don’t you think?” Before George can form a response, Dream tsks. “You can scream it louder than that, can’t you?” And with that, Dream draws his mouth back and uses his free hand to twist George’s nipple until he shouts out in pain and pleasure.
“Daddy!” George tries to arch his back, but finds he can’t move an inch with Dream laying on top of him.
“Good boy.” Dream purrs into George’s neck as the smaller melts into the praise. If George hadn’t shown his weakness to the two short words already, he certainly has now. Sirens blare in his mind loud enough he swears the world can hear, but they’re completely drowned out by Dream, who is admittedly his world. It’s terrifying to fight against the instincts he's been building up for years; akin to the ruins of the ancient world, all sediment must fall eventually.
George is torn away from his thoughts as Dream wraps his hands around the sides of George’s waist, digging his thumbs into pale flesh below the smaller’s hip bones. He stabilizes himself to evenly distribute his weight before pushing up into a straddle atop George’s thighs, aiming to leave behind shadowed bruises that mark his beloved for days to follow.
Desperate silence fills the air as George forces his head back in rapture. He strains his voice so sharply that all that comes out is a raspy breath. The room’s atmosphere feels so heavy he half-expects to see his breath slowly dissipate into nothingness when he sneaks a glance at Dream, who’s eyeing his cock with nothing short of sweet, sweet condescension. “What’s this, angel? Looks like you’ve got quite the problem forming.”
“You don’t fucking say?” George twists and turns against Dream’s strong hold, his mind continues to battle between fleeing and friction.
“Oh, but I do.” The taller innocently runs his fingers through dark hair, brushing his torso gently across the sensitive tip of George’s leaking cock, but paying no mind to the struggling below him. “In fact, since you obviously can’t seem to sit still and look pretty, the one thing I ask of you, I guess I’d better set an example, huh?”
“What, daddy?” George stutters, fluttering dilated chocolate eyes open with a gaze that can only be described as love-drunk.
Dream straightens back up, once again resting his palms on George’s hip bones. The weight of his broad shoulders and strong hands would make almost anyone squirm in pain and George is no exception, but instead of the adrenaline racing through his veins, Dream can clearly see it goes straight to his dick. “I think I’ll just sit here and look pretty. Gonna show you how it’s done and I’d suggest you take notes, but I have other ideas for your hands, honey.”
The blind adoration in George’s eyes flickers out as he realizes that maybe he won’t get exactly what he wants delivered to him on a silver platter, to which Dream notices and cocks his head in concern. George tries to conceal his fondness, but can’t help cracking a smile as Dream smirks back at the tiny whisper of “ Green. ”
“Reach your arm back up towards the headboard and grab your wrist. I know you’re capable of some self-discipline, just keep being obedient for daddy and I won’t have to tell you to scream my name, instead I’ll tell you to stop so you don’t ruin that tight little throat of yours.” Dream allows for the words to sink into George’s mind and moments later he’s pleasantly surprised by the lack of brattiness he’s become so, so accustomed to.
George has never felt so conflicted in his emotions before whatever the hell is going on here. He hates that he loves the control but can't seem to fight off his prideful inhibitions. Rolling his shoulders, he stretches his arms above his head and firmly grasps slender fingers around his wrist. It feels strange and counterproductive, but he supposes that's the point. “Yes, daddy.”
“I want you to stay still while I grab a few things, okay?” Dream swings his leg over George and climbs off the bed, sliding his pants off as rummages around in the bedside table drawers.
George jumps a bit when the old drawer shuts with a bang. It comes as a surprise to both, as George had been around Dream and the mafia lifestyle for long enough to before more than comfortable around loud noises, even gunshots. No matter how much of an act he tries to keep up, George’s heightened senses display his newfound sensitivity and willingness to wander off the ledge into crashing waves of trust.
He subconsciously tries his best to follow along with Dream and slides a hand down to his waistband to tug off his joggers, but instead is met with a grounding slap to the thigh.
“What am I gonna do with you? You’ve made it clear you can’t listen to save your life, but now you can’t listen when I give you a simple task?” Dream once again straddles George’s thighs and rubs over his aching hips. “Because this is all new to you, I’ll give you another choice.”
Haze washes over George’s eyes with the return of painful stimulation. He nods and slowly returns his hands to their previous position, receiving a nod of approval and a slight smile from Dream. “Thank you.” He whispers, genuine gratitude laces his words.
“You can either stay still and take what I give you or I could tie up those pretty hands and you’ll still take what I give you, but I promise you’ll enjoy this so much more if you listen.”
“I can stay still, promise, just please let me come,” George begs, fighting the urge to allow his limbs the motion they so desperately desire.
“Patience, honey. Show me how you can be a good boy and we’ll take it from there.” Dream begins to slowly stroke his cock with the flesh of his palm. It’s more for the show than his own pleasure, but he enjoys nothing more than watching his baby struggle where the only possible solution of relief is him. “Keep your eyes up here and talk to me, honey. Wanna hear your lovely voice.”
Any ounce of submission or pliancy drains from George’s body at the notion of being expected to just lay down and ignore his aching boner as Dream so casually jerks off above him. However, he knows Dream’s games and plays them better than he’d ever let on.
“How can you possibly expect me to look at anything other than your dick, daddy? If I really am such a needy little slut just for you, why don’t you go ahead and use me? I bet Sapnap would have already came three times!” George follows the directions he’s given perfectly, with his hands and wrists in perfect position and his eyes locked on Dream’s with a hint of innocence and plenty of taunts.
“Would you like to repeat that?” Dream tightens his grip on George’s thighs and continues to stroke his cock harder with his thumb now brushing the tip at the end of each touch. He can’t exactly punish George for directly disobeying his orders, but he’s made it crystal clear that he won’t be rewarding any form of brattiness. Instead, he opts for a different approach, one he hopes will wipe the smirk off George’s face and replace it with pleas of forgiveness. “No? Then I supposed you haven’t forgotten about the fun little device sitting on my desk.”
The spark in George’s eyes flickers as he racks his brain for another quick remark, but then confusion and realization sets in. He opens his mouth to argue, but quickly shuts it as shock and pain rush through the sensitive veins of his length which is currently throbbing in Dream’s free hand, the other resting near the base of his own.
“Don’t even beg or make a sound, slut. I’m beyond sick of your attitude and every single time I think of giving you a sliver of what you want, you run your fucking mouth.” Dream staccatos each word with possessive passion. He continues to increase the intensity of his palming and shifts his focus to the tip, before cumming into his hand. “And to think, I was going to give you the privilege of being my own personal toy, painted by me for you to show off like the pretty little masterpiece you are.”
“Yours, sir.” George can’t stand that he’s so close to getting anything, yet so far away. If even for a moment, he gladly gives in to the one thing he desires, but isn’t strong enough to chase: pure submission.
“So lovely of you to say, darling.” Dream croons, leaning over George with a satisfied smile. “Though I can’t say I trust you to stay obedient, especially after these little stunts you keep pulling.”
“I can, sir, please.” George slurs. “I’ll be good, only for you.”
Dream pauses at the shift in George’s demeanor, unsure if he’s finally willing to fall into a trusting space of submission or in a mindset where he needs nothing but sweet words of praise and reassurance that he’s perfect and wonderful and so, so loved. He releases his clean hand and smooths back George’s hair, quietly asking, “Color?”
“Green, daddy. So green, thank you.” George giggles, slightly leaning into Dream’s touch before the taller sits back upright.
“So good, baby. Be a dear and clean off my hand, won’t you?” Dream brings his hand to George’s mouth and the brunette carefully licks away the mess until Dream pulls away and continues to lovingly card his fingers through dark hair. “So, so, good. Don’t worry, love, we can take another bath with the vanilla salts you love when we’re finished.”
“Mmm good.” George basks in the attention until he feels Dream pull away. He whines before realizing Dream was just readjusting and relaxes back into the soft mattress as Dream partially lays down on his chest and begins to press soft kisses to his collarbone.
“Haven’t ordered your collar yet, but this’ll do for now.” Dream scrapes his teeth across carved collarbones before biting hard and turning perfect waxen skin countless shades of red and purple. He continues intensely, fueled by George’s tiny gasps of contentment.
“Yours, just for you, daddy.” George whines as Dream detaches from his skin just before reaching the pain threshold he pleads for. He rolls his neck slightly, hinting where he hopes Dream will strike next.
Despite his orders to stay still, George strains up and exposes as much of his body as he can in hopes of getting anything out of Dream. He mentally curses himself when Dream pulls off completely and doesn’t allow him any time to prepare as the taller’s lightly dig into his flesh and drag down until soft hands settle on his thighs.
“You’re lucky I treat my toys so nicely. Since you decided to bring it up I can tell you that Sapnap would easily leave you here all needy and whiny with a toy shoved up your ass.” George doesn't have time to think about the information that has been given before Dream flips him over and tightly grabs his upper thighs, forcing him up onto all fours. “Really, doll, I could head down to the kitchen, brew a nice, warm cup of tea and listen to you scream my name and beg for me to give you anything .” As part of the act, Dream looks into the dark shadows and appears to imagine his fantasy. He may not plan on acting upon any of his threats, but his half-hard length shows otherwise.
“Thank you, so much.” George gasps as Dream keeps his unyielding grip known by grinding onto his ass. He can hear sharp breaths that border on something akin to a whine, but Dream would never admit it. “Leaking, can’t take it.”
“Alright angel, let's see that pretty ass.” Dream slides off George’s pants, holding him steady to keep his balance as the fabric passes over his knees and calves. Kicking the joggers aside, Dream pats around the bed in search of the lube, not daring to look away from his baby.
George thinks he hears the squirt of lube, but isn't certain. He’s finally getting what he wants and it’s fucking glorious. The thought of getting praised again fills the forefront of his mind and overtakes the part of him that so desperately wants to shift in any way possible for friction. “You called me pretty.” He hints, in hope of those two words that surely will cause him to melt.
“So pretty. So, so very pretty.” Dream runs one hand over the beautiful sight in front of him and presses a finger of the other over George’s sensitive hole. He’s shocked by the sudden compliance he’s met with, but doesn’t mind in the slightest.
“‘M bein’ good, so good.” George moans, fighting everything within him not to push back against Dream’s finger. His efforts prove to be worth it as Dream pushes his finger into his hole at long last. George doesn’t bother holding back a high-pitched noise of relief. If he were more of a brat he’d keep quiet to anger Dream, as he knows how much the blonde enjoys the noises he makes in bed.
Dream hooks his forearm around George’s waist, paying mind to not touch his beloved’s dick because he’s not that mean, at least not tonight. He leans down into George’s warmth as he pumps his finger in and out, feeling the pressure around it intensify as he speeds up, eventually adding a second finger. “With your whorish tendencies I’m surprised you’re this tight. I’m starting to think it’s just an act to get daddy’s attention.”
George nods, feeling more called out than he should.
“What was that, darling? Only two fingers in and you’re already fucked out?” Dream adds a third finger and keeps a steady pace.
“No, please no. Want you so bad, always do.” The brunette cries into heavy air. “Need you inside me please, please daddy.”
Dream takes no time before slamming all the way into George and holding him tight in strong arms. He remembers their first time when he was so scared of hurting George he refused to thrust fully into him, no matter how many frustrated whimpers filled the air.
He keeps his grip firm and softly bites the cartilage of George’s ear and whispers cruel words he knows he’s a sadistic asshole for. “You’ve got me, angel. Now what?”
George squirms a bit, but immediately stops when Dream’s cock brushes over his prostate. “Just fucking move .”
“So needy.” Dream tightens his hold on George’s waist and decides to ignore the demanding nature of that little comment, “You’re so lovely and pretty and so, so adored. Such a good boy for me, y’know why I say that, darling?”
The question catches him off guard, but honeyed words of admiration run through his veins with overpowering lust. “Why?” George stammers.
“As much as I despise treating you like anything but royalty, I know what your pain-seeking mind craves and I’m about to fuck you like the worthless little slut you are.” Dream almost pulls out, leaving his leaking tip in George’s stretched hole. “Now, color?”
“Green.”
“Good boy.” Dream repeatedly thrusts into the brunette, basking in the loud cries which George has thrown any effort to hide out the window. “Let me know when you’re close. We can’t end our fun prematurely, can we?”
George’s limbs threaten to give out from under him, his elbows trembling with every positive emotion under the sun. He fails to notice that his eyes are beginning to tear up, despite being forcefully shut. When brown eyes flutter open he’s met with the sight of his hands and fingers digging into the comforter as they shift forward and back with each jolt of pleasure.
To say he’s on cloud nine is an understatement. The striking pain anyone else would surely beg to escape feels like everything he’s ever wanted and the fact that it’s coming from Dream makes him grateful to the ends of the Earth. The same Dream who refused even the thought of laying a sadistic touch on porcelain skin covered him in marks and is currently holding what’s sure to be the best damn orgasm of his life over his head like a lip-staining strawberry lollipop.
He’s pulled back to reality when Dream tugs harshly on his hair and feels even more pressure push against his walls. Cum trails down onto his thighs as Dream rides the high of his second orgasm of the night, but doesn’t pull out no matter how sensitive his cock may be, keeping George filled.
“‘M close, sir.” George’s arms give out and his face meets cool cloth when Dream lets go of his hair, instead wrapping his hand around the base of George’s length. Instant regret fills George’s tired body with the realization of how he’s fucked himself over by being obedient for once.
“Think you deserve it?” Dream winces as he pulls completely out and his cum floods onto them both and the expensive bedding below.
George tries his best to form any kind of coherent response, but all he can muster is a small whine of desperation as he nods into a pillow he swears wasn’t there before.
“I think so too, love. Thank you for trusting me and listening so well.'' With that, Dream begins to stroke the smaller’s cock in all the right ways with all the care in the world. Within seconds, George cums into Dream’s hand and onto his own stomach.
Rays of warm sunlight seem to glaze over him, rushing across his vision like the most beautiful sunrise. He doesn’t know if his eyes are even open, but he doesn’t care. All he cares about is chasing after the burning sunshine that passes over far too quickly. He wishes he could trap it in a jar and bask in its presence until the glow slowly dissipates into the atmosphere.
“You there, baby?” Dream rubs his back, grounding him somewhat down to reality. The much-needed compassion is a well-timed foil of mere moments prior. “How are you feeling?”
“Closer.” George uses all the strength he has to try and wrap his arms around Dream’s torso, but barely swings one onto the blonde’s chest. “Hold me, please.”
“Anything, darling. Anything and everything, all for you.” Dream pays no attention to the mess covering them both and pulls George into a hug, enveloping his limbs around him.
“Really?” George looks up into emerald eyes with a love-drunk look. He entangles his legs with Dream’s and traces over tan collarbones with a careful finger.
“Really.”
“I just…” George lays his head back on Dream’s chest, trailing off. “really love you.”
“I love you too, with my whole heart.”
Somehow Dream must’ve found the time to clean up a little; his chest is dry and comforting, with the faint aroma of vanilla just barely still present. He hums a track from the Minecraft soundtrack, remembering how one brisk autumn night led to George confessing how much he loved the quiet vibrations paired with the steady heartbeat of the one he loved most. He wonders if George remembers that night and if he ever picks up on Dream making the biggest deal of the little things he’s mentioned he enjoys.
“You were right.” George mumbles, sounding both confused and like he’s on top of the world. Well, he is on top of his world. “I liked that… a lot.”
“I’m happy to hear that, love. Don’t feel obligated to stay up and chat though, we can clean up quickly and head to bed if you’re too exhausted. I’m sure that took a lot out of you.”
“Wow, daddy, I can’t believe you’re trying to get rid of me already.” George giggles, the floaty feeling that once covered his body now almost fully shedded. “But really, I like hearing your voice.”
“And brat George is back.” Dream laughs. “Maybe next time I’ll have to edge you longer.”
“Sounds like a perfectly good reason to stab you off the edge of a cliff.”
“I hate to break it to you, but if that were the case you’d have no one to fulfill your ever-so-masochistic desires.”
“I suppose you’re kinda sorta right.” George feels Dream begin to plant kisses in his disheveled hair and doesn’t hesitate to look up and steal some affection. “I could make out with you all night, but I’m slightly messy right now.”
“Let me grab you some water and we’ll start a bath.” Dream lowers George onto a clean spot on the bed and his heart nearly breaks at the tiny whimper that leaves George’s mouth. Water in hand, he guides the other upright and carries him to the bathroom, practically cradling him in his arms.
“You did remember the vanilla bath salts, right?” George questions, smiling happily as Dream lovingly rolls his eyes, meeting the gaze of the love of his life who just happens to be in his arms.
“Couldn’t forget them, darling. Anything for my baby.”
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